


First Things First

by thalialunacy



Series: Frat Boy [4]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-08
Updated: 2009-12-08
Packaged: 2017-10-26 16:59:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thalialunacy/pseuds/thalialunacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one with the Altoids.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Things First

**Author's Note:**

> Awesome [Wiki page](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia:Manual_of_Style_\(spelling\)#English_spelling_comparison_chart) is awesome. Thanks to jazzy_peaches for the beta.

He’s dreaming about… swimming. Not in a pool, right, but in the harbour back home, and, well, not really swimming, because that’s generally for kids and tourists, but ankle deep, just standing in it, feeling the cold water rub against his skin…

It fades as he blinks awake, but the cold and the rubbing are still there— “Oh for the love of God,” he mumbles into the pillow. “I am not a space heater.”

“Sorry,” Chris murmurs, not sounding sorry at all. He does stop the rubbing, though, his ridiculously frozen feet pushing past Karl’s and into the ubiquitous smush of blanket at the foot of the bed. “It’s just so cold.”

Karl grunts. “I swear to God you’re an iguana.” He inhales, thinking about how he doesn’t have to think about it, and executes an ungainly but effective roll manoeuvre that tucks Chris half under him. Legs tangle hairily, and morning breath ends up far too near his nostrils. He smiles a little and tips his nose into Chris’ cheek, snuffling into a more pleasant position. “Better?” he murmurs into sleep-smelly skin.

“Ugh, yes.”

Karl is somehow not surprised when the ice-block-esque feet start rubbing on his calves again, groping for warmth or purchase or both. His jaw tics once, then he accepts it.

“I hate mornings,” Chris mumbles from somewhere around his eyebrow.

“Why?”

“You’re telling me you don’t hate mornings?”

“Only when I’m having a bad one.”

“Mine are all bad.”

“Should I be insulted?”

“Shit, no, I mean—“ Chris tries to wriggle and duck to face him but Karl holds him firmly where he is. He doesn’t want to deal with the not-so-Pine-fresh breath and besides, he has everything he needs within reach.

“Chill, Pine, I was joking.” He slides the tips of his fingers of his free hand under the hem of Chris’ sleep shirt, teasing the warm skin, then follows the trail to where it leads under the elastic of his pyjama bottoms. Chris makes a noise like a grunt, shifting slightly but eagerly into the touch, and Karl smiles into stubble. “I just think maybe you should enjoy the ones that are worth enjoying instead of chucking them all into the bin for simply including a sunrise.”

“And being cold,” Chris adds helpfully, just before sucking in a breath as Karl’s hand finds his cock.

“Baby.” He’s mostly soft and Karl is only there for a second before moving on, tracing the dry, warm crease of inner thigh, down to cup Chris’ balls for a moment, feeling their weight and enjoying Chris’ heavy exhalation.

There’s silence as Karl’s finger smoothes up the other side. Then Chris snickers. “Yes, honey?”

Karl tries not to smile, even though Chris wouldn’t be able to see it. “Oh, Pine.” He turns his head in and bites down at Chris’s neck. “You’ll regret that one.” And his hand finally stops wandering, and the palm is rough against the smooth skin at the base of Chris’s cock.

Chris jerks into the dual stimuli with a grunt, one hand sliding under his pyjamas to join Karl’s, to push at it insistently when it doesn’t move.

“Hang on a minute, will you,” Karl murmurs, biting again at Chris’ neck, then tonguing the spot, then moving a bit and doing it again. Chris curses and tries to turn again, stubborn idiot, so Karl moves his hand away completely. "Patience."

"No," Chris says succinctly, grabbing Karl's retreating hand and tugging it back to where it was. "It's cold, it's morning, I want you, let's do this."

Karl lets himself smile this time. But by the time Chris could possibly feel it against his chin, Karl has got them both turned properly on their sides, his chest pressing up against Chris's warm back.

"Spoiled brat," he says into Chris' ear. His hand is now down the back side of Chris' pyjamas, tucked away down under his balls so one leg is pushed just in front of the other. "You need to learn how to savour, my young friend."

Chris shoves back ungracefully into his touch, spreading his legs further so Karl can roll his balls gently. "That may be true, old man," he says, his voice cracking when Karl's littlest finger slides back along his perineum to his entrance, not pushing in but pressing just enough… "But I just—shit, yes, please—" The finger has made gentle headway, and he closes his eyes as his mouth falls open a little bit. He reaches up to cup the back of Karl's neck. "We just don't get to do this very often, this whole waking up together thing, and it's—" His grip on Karl tightens momentarily, and his voice gets quieter, the suavity gone. "You know."

Karl leans in to kiss at his jaw. "I know," he murmurs. He presses his index finger in, lightly. "Which is why I'm not already out of bed."

Chris takes the hint and reaches towards the bedside table; Karl takes the advantage and pushes both their pyjama bottoms down around their thighs. "God damn morning people," Chris grumbles as he hands the lube over his shoulder. Karl pops the top and unhurriedly rubs some of the stuff on his fingers. "Forcing me to have sex before I've had my— _fuck_ —" Two slippery fingers find their way inside him with only token resistance. "—coffee."

Karl tips his knee into the back of Chris' legs and the kid takes that hint easily, too, lifting up to let Karl's thigh slide between his. "Up a bit," Karl instructs quietly, and Chris complies, until Karl's lips are in line with Chris' shoulder and his overeager cock is in line with its destination, which is now housing three fingers.

All of this is garnering grunts of approval from Chris. Karl moves in and out steadily, almost lazily, occasionally planting kisses where he can reach but mostly just enjoying the moment—the crisp air around them, the warmth lingering in the sheets, the musky smells, the slick feeling on his fingers versus the dry feeling against his lips…

His only regret is that this position leaves him without a free hand, but Chris, always looking out for number one, has taken care of it, stroking himself with ease. His breathing gets steadily heavier until Karl's cock is heavy against the inside of Chris' thigh. But still, Karl waits.

"Fuck, man, haven't we done enough savoring?"

Karl bites at his shoulder blade. "What's the magic word."

Chris turns and steals a sour kiss before Karl can blink. "Fuck me sideways?"

He recovers quickly, though. "Not quite, Princess." He removes his fingers swiftly and pushes his cock into Chris, but just a little, just enough to—

"Fuck, okay, _please_ , for Christ's sake, Karl, if you—" Karl thrusts home and they both groan. "Yes, sweet Jesus thank you."

Karl snorts. "I thought you were agnostic."

"Sex makes believers out of everyone. Uggn." Chris reaches back clutches at Karl's hip, and they sync up, their bodies moving together in that that fluid sort of movement that only moments like this have. It's that moment that feels perfect, that moment you always try to hold on to, but that moment that always gets lost in a hot sweaty blur of rutting for completion.

Not that that's a bad thing, Karl muses, as he reaches for Chris' cock and their rhythm dissolves into sweet desperation, groans rumbling through chests and bellies, pants leaving damp marks on skin, and when Karl comes first, he doesn't stop moving, whispering nothings into Chris' skin until he comes with his fist tight in Karl's hair and an unintelligible shout on his lips.

And it's just about brilliant, is about all Karl can manage to think.

Chris, per usual, barely misses a beat. “Have I told you lately how much I lo—“ He hitches in a breath and Karl’s heart thumps once. Twice. He blames the blood slowly returning to its proper function. “—love morning sex?”

Karl huffs into Chris' shoulder. “Even though you hate mornings.”

“My hatred of mornings nothwithstanding, yes.”

“You might’ve mentioned it. But first thing today—“ He grunts as he withdraws; Chris lets out a little half-hiss and Karl nips at his shoulder. “Okay, second thing today, seeing as we've already taken care of the first thing." Chris chuckles. "Well, third thing after a shower.”

Chris squishes backwards and regards Karl with a purely lascivious grin. “Fourth thing after I can’t stand looking at you in a towel and fuck you until you need another shower.”

Karl smiles and nudges him back round, unwilling to move just yet. “And then we’ll need breakfast.”

“Right. So fifth thing. The fifth thing is…?”

“The fifth thing is that the drawer is missing an item to accommodate these sorts of shenanigans.”

“Hey, kinky. What’d you have in mind?”

“Altoids.”

Chris’ laugh tips his head back and he almost clocks Karl in the chin, but Karl's reflexes somehow work even when thoroughly sexed, because he ducks back in time. "Hey, watch it, kid."

"Sorry, old man." He tucks into Karl, all elbows and hairy legs and knobby knees; apparently Karl's not the only one that doesn't want to move. After a moment, he speaks again. "Well, all right, then, on those terms, I suppose I could."

Karl noses into his neck, almost ready to pass out again, despite his industrious plans. "Could what?"

"Learn to like mornings."

"Ah. On which terms? Terms that include Altoids?"

"Now that you mention it, yeah."

"That's only one term."

Chris yawns. "Well, the original term was, you know, you." He yawns again. "Now let's go back to sleep. It's still morning, and it's still cold."

Karl finds himself tightening his grip, and his cheeks flame until he feels Chris' answering clutch. Then he smiles… Which turns into his own yawn. He blinks sleepily. He can already hear Chris' breath evening out, and he considers his options.

To hell with it, he decides. They'll get up eventually. These are mornings meant for savouring, after all.

 **  
_FIN_   
**


End file.
